


Annales Tavriensis

by TheMedievalistKnits



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Medieval, Multi, historical fiction - Freeform, lots and lots of politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 02:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMedievalistKnits/pseuds/TheMedievalistKnits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tavros Nitram, an Alternian Benedictine monk, is sent to the court of Feferi, Empress-Regent of Alternia, Duchess of Normandy, and Queen Regnant of England and Wales. Unfortunately for Tavros, the Queen's rule is under threat by the usurper, Vriska, and her allies. In addition to this, her human subjects are plotting rebellion, her fool and more trusted advisor has fled to the New Forest, and there is, of course, the ever-present threat of the true Empress coming back and slaying the Queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelegendum: A Note On Politics and Relationships

**Author's Note:**

> This is something of a prologue; the story proper will begin in the next chapter. Also, please feel free to correct any errors I've made!

Here's the most basic information: After William the Conqueror died in Normandy in 1086, the Alternians landed in East Anglia and conquered England. The Empress has gone off to conquer the rest of Europe, planning to kill Feferi (who is Empress Regent) when she has finished with the Holy Roman Empire and Papal States. She may even go to Russia. 

Here's the stuff for the historians and/or people who like to know EVERYTHING.

1) Karkat has been pretending to have normal blood for most of his life. (He's lime-colored and a Limey, ha ha ha.) This is a deception that has been sustained by everyone focusing on more important things, namely land-grabbing. This is only put first because I knew someone would ask. 

2) In 1090, when this story takes place, there is no Great Britain. Instead, we have England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, the Kingdom of the Isles, and Normandy. Even England isn't unified--it's a vaguely cohesive group of nobles with a lot of land who pretend to be loyal to whoever's king at the time. 

2a) Feferi is Empress-Regent of Alternia, and she has also coopted the titles 'Regina Anglorum et Cambriensis' and 'Dux Normandiae.' (Essentially 'Queen of England and Wales' and 'Duchess of Normandy'.) 

2b) Vriska is Viceroy of Normandy (because Feferi is a bit trusting and also vastly prefers England). This will have consequences.

2c) Eridan is the King of Ireland (varyingly going by Rex or Flaithius or Flaith) and King of the Isles. [The Isles are Unst, Shetland, Iona, the Isle of Man, the Aran islands, etc.] 

2d) Someone had the idiot ball and gave Gamzee Scotland. 

2e) Equius got the short end of the stick in regards to land and was given York. He would have had Wales, but Feferi thought there were actual whales there (she was about four sweeps old, give her a break). Yes, he is bitter.

2f) Terezi is now Justiciar. She is in charge of the Queen's courts, which is of course lovely for her. Also, she is filthy rich and gets to wear pretty red robes with ermine and jewels.

3) Relationships are fairly undecided as of yet. There is SIGNIFICANT pressure for Feferi to fill her quadrants so that she can produce an heir when she is able to do so. (I am assuming that a six-sweep-old troll is biologically immature.) If you want a shipping chart, you'll get it. Eventually. 

3a) Trolls can have relationships with humans; this is frowned upon in most circles.

If you all have any more questions, please let me know! I will be more than happy to answer them!


	2. De Imperiatrix Nostra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros arrives in London and meets Queen Feferi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy early Valentine's Day! As always, if there are any errors, let me know; I'm more than happy to fix them if need be!
> 
> About Westminster Abbey--before the Reformation and subsequent Dispersion, it was a fully-fledged Benedictine community, which is why Feferi stays there. Monasteries usually had places for the nobility who patronized them to stay, and served as something of a nice hotel. Of course, one can always claim sanctuary in a holy place, which is why Feferi (who is certainly a good deal more conniving than we give her credit for) has it on her short list of royal residences.
> 
> The feast days of the mentioned saints are...you guessed it...April 13th. I am not quite sure as to whether these exact saint's days were celebrated in 1090; as usual, if I've made a mistake, please correct me!
> 
> If you're wondering why Tavros is a monk, all will be revealed in the fullness of time.

Incipit librum primerum annales Tavriensis.

Anno Domini 1090, Anno Solar Alterniae 545.

Primo anno regno Feferi.

Your name is TAVROS NITRAM. You are a monk of the Benedictine Order, belonging to the monastery of St. Etheldreda, and are something of a rarity due to both your assuming the habit at a young age (you are only six sweeps old and have already taken your vows) and to your background, as very few Alternians are called to the religious life. Today, however, you have exchanged the cloisters for the court, as the Queen has chosen you to be her personal confessor. This decision is somewhat surprising—you met her perhaps once, and she never seemed the type to actually follow Christian doctrine—but your abbot encouraged you to go, and so you and your mighty steed Tinkerbull are roaming through London. It is certainly a good deal more cosmopolitan than Ely.

 You have arrived ahead of schedule, one of the many benefits of having a cart of your own. Although there are certainly many things that you can do in your free time—you’re not expected at Her Majesty’s court until noon tomorrow—you do not particularly care to lollygag. After all, you were sent to serve as Her Majesty’s spiritual advisor, even if you may wind up balancing her books or serving as her private tutor instead, and it would not reflect well on you, St. Etheldreda’s, your abbot, the Benedictine order as a whole, or the Holy Mother Church if you were to avoid your calling in favor of idle pastimes.

You click your tongue encouragingly at Tinkerbull, your long-suffering lusus, and you begin making your way towards the palace, carefully avoiding vendors and human children playing in the street. They trot along amiably, and for a short time, you let yourself focus on the beauty of London. There are stalls selling everything you can imagine, from blood pudding to books, and there are a multitude of peoples roaming the streets. There’s even a mystery play going on in one of the smaller churchyards, and Tinkerbull notices your hesitation and speeds up so that you are not tempted. You sometimes wish that you could take part in them—the pageantry is something that you love very much, and you always wanted to play one of the angels because they could fly—but you know that it is somewhat impossible to do so now. After all, the cart tends to diminish the role’s dignity. 

The remainder of the trip goes along fairly well. Although you get stuck in a pot hole once or twice, and narrowly evade a stream of chamber-pot contents in the French quarter, you find that you have arrived at the palace by three in the afternoon. The palace itself is not what you imagined—the Queen is fairly humble despite her high-blood status, and even if she weren’t, the court needs to move about fairly quickly in case the true Empress decides to remove her competition. As a result, she is holed up in her quarters in Westminster Abbey (all the better to seek sanctuary, you think), surrounded by only a few people—her fool, her moirail, a few ladies-in-waiting to maintain appearances, the host of soldiers needed to guard her and to protect her lusus, and now you. The responsibility is starting to get to you now!

There are, of course, some stares and whispers as you enter the cathedral, mostly because you’re really not supposed to bring animals into the sanctuary. Although Tinkerbull is exceptionally well behaved and hasn’t made a mess on the floor in quite a while, and although lusi are not animals per se, it still feels wrong on some level to have them roll along the side aisles with you. You pull into a chapel, make the appropriate genuflections, and unhitch them, collapse the axle, and continue rolling yourself along. It’s tiring work, made more exhausting by the fact that you haven’t quite gotten a good night’s sleep since you left St. Etheldreda’s. Traveling is just too much for you, as it is for most individuals, and you certainly hope that when you have to travel again, you at least get some access to sopor slime.

Finding the Queen’s chambers entails leaving the cathedral and actually going into the abbey—which is sad, as you did wish to explore the place—and is something of a workout due to the bumpy grounds. By the time you are waiting in the antechamber, your teeth have been thoroughly rattled, you’ve got mud on your habit (which of course won’t blend in with the black wool), your arms hurt quite a bit, and there are a grand total of two things on your mind—first, getting something to eat at some point in time before you faint, and second, sleep. Since it happens to be the feast day of Saints Carpus, Gunioc, Maximus, Hermenegild, and Martius, there will probably be something palatable at the refactory. It might even be fruit, maybe even an orange.

Of course, the fact that you’re drooling over citrus means that you’re caught exceptionally unprepared when the Queen does call you in. This means a hasty scramble into the chamber, nearly catching your sleeve in the wheel. The Queen is seated in the center of the room, entertaining herself with what appears to be a breviary. Your heart jumps in your throat a bit when you notice the jewels on the cover—that particular design, the winged bull, was on the cover of the one you transcribed yourself. So that was why she chose you; she needed a companion who also shared a love of animals. This fills you with unseemly pride, although Tinkerbull nips you slightly before you get too carried away.

She looks up from her book and smiles broadly, which is really quite unnerving even though you are both Alternian and both possessed of frightening teeth. “You’re early,” she says excitedly, putting the book aside and practically leaping from the chair. “Did you travel whale?"

“uHH, YES, yOUR mAJESTY,” you stammer. Her sense of humor is exactly as reported, you think as you wonder whether that was the right response, and if you have somehow breached etiquette by not bowing or something. The monks did not teach you anything about etiquette. She crosses the room swiftly despite her voluminous skirts—like most Alternians, she’s adopted the garb of your human subjects, since your new home is rather colder than Alternia—and circles you, looking curiously at your cart. To be honest, it makes you a little uncomfortable—everyone looks at the chair first, and then at your horns, but mainly they look at the chair—but it’s nothing you aren’t used to.


	3. Panem et Circenses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros begins to settle in at the Abbey, and is introduced to the increasingly strange royals and hangers-on who live there. A treaty is signed, and a wandering mystic comes to visit. There is a feast that will have enormous consequences for Her Majesty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on Chapter 2: I said "breviary" when I meant "bestiary." The two are very different things, as the former is a book describing the canonical hours and the appropriate prayers thereof and the latter is a book of animals; I apologize for the confusion. 
> 
> In this particular chapter, we get to play with a good deal more people. We also get snippets of Tavros' actual work, which will be offset by ellipses.
> 
> When Feferi offers Tavros an apartment, this isn't your modern "one bedroom, one bath, kitchenette" room. This is more of a nice fancy suite for him--since he is her confessor, he does have a higher status than the other monks, even if he's still under abbatial rule--that gives him privacy and a certain amount of luxury. Everybody in a palace gets something like this, unless they're unfortunate enough to be a servant.
> 
> And, yes, Eridan is king of Ireland and is in exile in England. This sort of thing happened to the Irish kings all the time--for example, the Ui Niall kings were evicted more often than not following their defeats--and was usually remedied posthaste by scrounging up a sympathetic army-for-hire and returning to the Emerald Island to kick some usurper ass. If you're wondering what an Ostman is, it's a descendant of the Vikings who conquered Ireland, specifically Dublin. These were given a higher status than 'normal' Irish people under English rule, seeing as they were more Scandinavian and therefore acceptable. Scandinavia had a fuckton of influence on the British Isles, and vice versa, and a really good book on the subject is "Viking Pirates and Christian Princes."
> 
> None is the canonical hour--approximately three PM--and is a time for prayer. 
> 
> The Witan is the Anglo-Saxon King's Council. They create the laws and advise the king. The Normans changed the name to the Consilium Magnum, and it later became the House of Lords.
> 
> *What Tavros thinks is an issue involving geese is actually a geas, a Celtic magical ban against certain actions.

The rest of your interview passes by in a blur, mostly because Her Majesty tends to talk very fast, and her enthusiasm is catching. She switches frequently from subject to subject—one minute discussing whether you would like an apartment (!) nearer the stairs, the next grabbing your cart and wheeling you at full speed towards the stables, where she keeps all manner of injured creatures. She is, at least, cautious enough to avoid bringing you near her lusus; although the Vast Glub has not been released, thanks to her valiant efforts and the grace of God and all His saints, it still wouldn’t be very wise to hang around near it, as you are psychically susceptible. This is accompanied by a high-speed stream of narration—“We )(ad a pony )(ere once, t)(e kind t)(e )(umans use to pull t)(eir plows, and t)(en it got over-attac)(ed to t)(e Duke of York…” 

The stables themselves are massive. There are the standard animals that one finds in all the monasteries of England—cows for milk and butter, a few Jacob sheep for wool and meat, an absurdly large bee hive, a few injured lusi, and what appears to be a bear with a broken arm. You like being around animals, and if you could use a pitchfork without either catching it in your horns or flinging the dung all over everyone around you, you'd have worked in the stables at St. Etheldreda's without complaint. While Feferi excuses herself to check on one of the more grievously injured creatures, you wheel yourself over to the cows and watch them for a time. These happen to be the long-coated kind from the Highlands, with horns almost as long as yours. There is a happy moment of communion when you reach over the gate to scratch one's head. Tinkerbull gets a bit jealous, and so you give them a scratch behind the ears as well. 

Of course, all good things must come to an end. A very loud fanfare announces the arrival of some dignitary or another, and Feferi must abandon her animal triage and run to meet them. Of course, the image of royal dignity is slightly destroyed by how she's running full-blast towards the gates with her Tyrian purple skirts kilted up to the knee like a common milkmaid, one hand on her tiara to make sure it doesn't fall out. You take a leaf from her book and wheel furiously after her, which of course makes your biceps hurt even more. She reaches the gates just in time, and is given the side-eye from her Fool, who appears to be the only member of the royal party who has a sense of timing.

The visitor of the day happens to be Her Majesty's moirail, returned from collecting his latest army-for-hire. The Flaith of Ireland and King of the Isles, Eridan Ampora, is covered in refuse and is obviously less than thrilled about it. Feferi is trying very hard not to laugh at him. 

"wwhat are you starin at" he demands quite rudely, attempting to shake the worst of the debris out of his cloak. He has a thick accent, something that sounds vaguely Danish and thicker than the most foreign of Ostmen, and not for the first time, you wonder whether he might have been happier as a Northman raider. You decide it might be best to look away; he's clearly spoiling for a fight and you have no desire to get into one. 

"You )(ave a turnip on your )(orn," Feferi says between hastily disguised giggles. He shoots her a glare, made slightly less virulent due to the fact that his glasses (one of the few Alternian inventions to catch on with the human populace) are draped with what appears to be carrot leaves. 

"they pushed me into a midden," he sniffs, dismounting from Skyhorse. Eridan brushes some of the dirt off his trousers. "i don't knoww wwhy they did that"

The Fool, who had been rolling his eyes and sighing in a cheerfully passive-aggressive manner, snorts. "YOU FORGET THE PROBLEM OF SERKET'S LUSUS," he says in a surprisingly loud voice. "THEY'RE NOT SO STUPID THAT THEIR LIFE AMBITION IS TO BECOME POX-INFESTED CANAPES FOR MONSTERS." 

"but they vvolunteered the last time an the time before that an i nevver once had any complaints" 

"YES, BECAUSE LEAPING INTO THE NORTH SEA AND SWIMMING TO LINDISFARNE TO CLAIM SANCTUARY ISN'T COMPLAINING. AND THE WAVE OF SELF-MUTILATIONS THAT SPREADS THROUGH THE COUNTRYSIDE LIKE FLEAS ON A RAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR RECRUITMENT DRIVE."

The discussion of Eridan's faulty recruiting policies turns into something three steps removed from a tavern brawl. Feferi is beginning to look embarrassed, and to be honest, you're not entirely fond of the conversation. You were quite happy not thinking about Vriska, and it's only the clanging of the None bells that give you an excuse to escape. 

The liturgy can only distract you for so long. You do, eventually, have to leave the safety of the church to attend to the spiritual needs of your increasingly fractious and frightening flock, and it's not something you're looking forward to. 

By the time you drag yourself away from the incense-filled sanctuary, Feferi has retreated to her rooms. She is engaged in some kind of embroidery, and you note that she's stabbing the frame with greater force than actually necessary. You really have no idea what you're supposed to do in a situation like this, and so carefully wheel yourself to a corner, picking up the bestiary she had been reading earlier. 

")(e's not always like t)(at," Feferi says as she stops to untangle the threads. ")(e's a little obsessed wit)( getting )(is kingdom back. I'm t)(inking of lending )(im my soldierfis)( if he can't get an army by W)(itsunday." 

"tHAT'S,,,UH,,,NOT REALLY LIKELY,,," you respond. 

"I know," she shrugs. ")(e really needs to get out of my )(air; fis)( and visitors stink after t)(ree days, and )(e's been )(ere a mont)(!"

This enlightening discussion of her moirail's failings is interrupted by the door banging open quite suddenly. Eridan struts in proudly, grimy cape flapping behind him, and brandishes a letter in front of Feferi. "shes agreed to a treaty fef isnt it wwonderful" he cries, positively beaming. 

"Of course it is," Feferi says with desperate enthusiasm. "Do you get to go back now?" 

"wwhen she signs it" he answers, quite oblivious to the hopes and dreams of everybody present. Feferi sighs and walks over to him, taking the letter. 

"W)(y does Vriska want to come )(ere to sign it?" she asks, looking more than a little annoyed. "T)(e last time s)(e came, most of t)(e c)(ildren in London died, and I nearly )(ad a riot on my )(ands. The monkfis)(es weren't too pleased with )(er, eit)(er." 

You, of course, are trying very hard to hide your displeasure at this statement, and wonder for a moment if it's at all possible for you to hide for a week or two, depending on when Vriska is expected. 

"she promised to behavve this time" Eridan says gaily, snatching the letter back. "she evven offered to start up our rivvalry again" You could swear by every saint you can name that he's got hearts in his eyes at this particular prospect. It would be humorous if it wasn't so panic-inducing.

"T)(at's very nice of )(er," Feferi mutters. You, of course, are by now quaking in your boots, er, sandals. "W)(en is s)(e coming?"

"three days I think" Eridan says, looking at the letter again. "shes been wwritin in blood again an its a bit hard to read" He wanders off, humming slightly.

"You don't need to worry so muc)(," Feferi says to you as she resumes her embroidery. "Kanaya--sorry, Dame Kanaya--oug)(t to be t)(ere as well, so s)(e can't do anyt)(ing too drastic." 

"tHAT'S GOOD,,," you say quietly, only slightly heartened that your auspistice is going to be there. Although you have full faith that Kanaya is capable of preventing another incident, and you are absolutely certain that Vriska might put her sadistic tendencies on hold for one night, it's still not an occasion you're looking forward to. 

The next few days are spent in the bustle of preparing for a feast. You do get a few occasions to hear Her Majesty's confessions and say Mass for her--to be honest, she's a decent troll, relatively blameless, and her confessions are like being stoned to death with feathers. It's not an entirely bad job, and focusing on the prayers and rituals helps you to ease your mind. 

The day before the feast, Equius, the Duke of York, and Gamzee, the King of Scotland, arrive, the former trying very hard not to look at the latter, to ask Her Majesty to help them with their latest quarrel. You aren't entirely sure what had happened this time, as they are renowned for bickering almost constantly, but it seems to have involved a state dinner, a plate of haggis, and something about geese*. You are asked to take down the Queen's attempts at auspisticizing (she likes having records of everything, an interest you think was fostered by the Witan), and it is an amusing task. Of course, the King of Scotland has his mind in some other place at the time, and his portion of the proceedings tends to be slightly...out of sync with what is actually happening. (He is also one of the most foul-mouthed trolls you've ever met, and the language he uses makes you turn a fairly unappealing shade of greyish-brown. )

...and the King said, "i WaSn'T aWaRe ThAt HaGgIs WaS aN aLtErNiAn MeAt." And lo, the Duke did have a vein pulse in his neck, and he replied, "By the holy %, I am not allowed to eat meat or flesh of any sort, Alternian or otherwise" And the Queen did sigh, and put her head in her hands, and the two continued in such a manner throughout the night, giving the Queen such a pain in the head that she decreed that the King of Scotland was not to let haggis cross the border ever again, and that the Duke of York was to simply refrain from eating the next time and to not bother her with things like this...

Of course, the feast itself is something of a circus. Vriska arrived at three in the afternoon, and you were privileged enough to avoid her entry. The Viceroy and Marchioness wore a shining metal false arm, newly crafted by the Duke of York as penance for disturbing the Queen, and it glinted and gleamed in the sun, or so you were told. 

You were not so lucky as to be able to skip the feast. Feferi was nice enough to place you between Dame Nepeta, the Duke of York's moirail and constant companion, and the Duke himself. They are pleasant enough tablemates, although the Duke has a nasty habit of sweating copiously, and you are able to make some conversation with Nepeta concerning the hunting of lynxes. Vriska herself is seated on the dais with the Queen and Eridan, and the three of them are engaged in some kind of low-level bickering as the meal continues. Dame Kanaya, your auspistice and essentially one of your few allies in this situation, is sitting on the other side, watching the two of you carefully. She has a female human with her, possibly a servant or business partner of some sort, and this is something of a novelty for you as you've never actually seen one. She is generally unremarkable--blonde hair and fair skin, like most humans you've met here--and is more focused on her meal. 

The meal is opulent but not excessive, and heavily features eel pies. (Equius seems to be behaving himself and is picking at his trencher stealthily.) The mulled wine is flowing like water, and all seems to be going well until the doors to the hall burst open in an excessively dramatic fashion. There, lit by the rising moon, is the Mage of Doom, the prophetess Aradia, and her companion Sollux. This is, of course, an exciting turn of events--she speaks of Doomsday as clearly as the book of Revelations, and like most of your compatriots, you are fascinated with such prognostications. 

She is of course ushered up to the dais, placed next to Vriska, and given a plate of food. Vriska is less than pleased with this change, and glares angrily at the floor. You make sure to avoid making eye contact with her. Sollux is sent to sit with Kanaya and her human, and they seem to get along quite well.

The meal is slightly more awkward after that, and there is some tension at the dais. Eridan is, of course, completely unaware of this, and gets drunk enough to start singing some very crass songs in his rather poor Latin. Feferi is turning increasingly purple with mixed embarrassment and rage.


End file.
